Shifting his gaze from one spot to another–eyes darting around as fast as possible within the next few seconds–Pierrot ended up changing the topic before this situation went awry. 

“B-by the way, what is this flower?” he asked the first thing that came to his mind.

Helena also turned her head to see a bunch of flowers with their elegant white petals swaying in the wind. They were gorgeous, pleasant to the eyes as each one of them filled the small part of the garden next to Pierrot and Helena.

 “O-oh.” Helena took a deep breath before answering. “It’s camellia. Do you like it?”

Pierrot made a slight nod. “I’m not well-versed in flowers, but even I can tell it’s very beautiful.”

“We do think alike.” Helena smirked. “Camellia symbolizes purity and innocence. I also heard that it’s the perfect flower to give someone you care for, so you might be more of a romantic person than you think.”

“I don’t think the word ‘romantic’ suits me that much.”

“Then its second meaning probably does.”

“And what is that?”

“Death. To mourn someone.”

“....Such an ominous flower.”

Helena’s lips curved into a smile that rivaled the flower’s beauty, complemented by the sweet giggle of a maiden. “Flowers are like that. As beautiful as they may seem, some express sorrow and grief better than our language can. Having said that though, I do prefer the more lighthearted ones.”

Amid the garden, her voice rang like a sweet melody Pierrot couldn’t stop listening to. His lack of knowledge about flowers helped with his silence, but more than anything, he found enjoyment in hearing what Helena had to say. 

Time seemed to move even faster now, ticking minutes that felt like seconds.

“On the topic of flowers, those are also camellias,” Helena said while pointing her finger to the far right.

“The pink ones?”

“Yup. Look closely and you can see they are pretty similar.”

Spiralling petals, one on top of another like a crown adorned in soft jewels–the only difference was their color. Both were just two types of flowers among tens of others surrounding them, each one gleaming with charm that demanded attention. 

They continued walking. Different from before, however, conversation filled the air, leaving stillness and quietness where they stood. Flowers’ names flew off Helena’s mouth as often as they walked. 

Hyacinth, lily, iris, azalea, rose, dahlia, jasmine, clover, lilac, ivy, peony, daisy, cassia, hazel, amaryllis, and many more that Pierrot couldn’t catch up with. 

Alongside what was special about them. One would have a unique pattern, then directly next to it would be one that had a foul smell. Each one possessed a quality that the others might not have, and Pierrot found that therapeutic to hear. 

“Did you plant all of them?” he asked. 

“Not all of them. My master planted most flowers here,” Helena said. “Remember camellia from before? That was the first flower I planted after she taught. I’m here just to tend the flowers she had left for me.”

Those last few words alone already told Pierrot not to pry further, but when it was Helena who continued.

“Ah, just to clarify, she isn’t dead, or at least that’s what I believe. She vanished years ago with no trace other than this place. Since then, I’ve been living alone.”

For a moment, Pierrot saw a solemn expression on the girl’s face. She tried to mask it by smiling the next second, but that image had already burned itself onto his retinas. At least, he knew it would remain in his memory for a while.

“So what’s your favorite flower?” Pierrot asked. “Is it camellia?”

“I have never been asked that before. Well, most likely it’s because I have been living alone, but hmmm….” Helena hummed to herself. She caressed her chin in the process. “Honestly, I like all flowers the same. They accompany me whenever I feel lonely. So, none of them is better or worse than the others, but if I have to pick one….”

“If you have to pick one…?”

“Just like you said, I would pick camellia.” Helena looked at Pierrot. That smile seemed to find its way back to her face, looking more ethereal than ever. “Because that’s the earliest memory I have of my master. That’s why it’s precious.”

Pierrot once again glanced as far as his eyes could see, it was all the result of Helena’s dedication and hard work. A thought also crossed his mind. There were at least a thousand flowers stretched from one side to another. How many years this must have taken, let alone doing it with no help from others. 

“If that’s the case, you have been doing amazing. This garden is nothing short of special.”

His want to appreciate her work overpowered the embarrassment of putting his respect into words. 

“Well, thank you.” Helena composed herself from grinning from ear to ear like before. It took her a few seconds, but when her calm and refined expression returned, she immediately squatted with both legs pressed against one another. “While we’re here, why don’t you try this?”

With her index fingers and thumb positioned like a crab’s pincers, Helena plucked a crescent moon-like object about the size of her pinkie. But in contrast to the dark night sky as its blanket, she took it from the plant in front of her, surrounded by luscious green leaves. Instead of a white shine, the object was fiery red.

It was Pierrot’s first time seeing that object, and although he assumed it to be something edible, he sensed something menacing out of it. 

“Try tasting it?” 

“Try tasting it,” she reiterated. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, making her expression more sinister. “Don’t judge it first. I assure you it’s fine to eat.”

“Fine? Not delicious?”

“It depends.”

Seconds had passed, yet her smile hadn’t reached her eyes. Her silence cued Pierrot to take the item for himself, which he inspected from one side to another. It was red all across, as if inside this crescent-shaped object existed raging fire that couldn’t escape. 

Pierrot gulped at that sight as his hand moved closer to her face alongside that item. Like a leap of faith, he took a bite–just a tiny amount, even smaller than one of his teeth. That tiny piece rested on his tongue, one step away from getting chewed.

And when he did, one chew was all it took for this heat suddenly to take over his senses. A prickly sensation tickled his inner mouth, and gasping for air only intensified the burning coolness that spread into his throat. 

“U-ugh!” he coughed, omitting a dry and rough sound each time his chest tightened. Merely talking hurt him as if he had been poisoned. “W-what is this?”

Finally, Helena’s eyes smiled alongside her lips. “It’s called chili pepper. I’m planning to add this to our next meal.”

Pierrot had heard that name before. It was a kind of fruit more commonly grown in the Ciprus Kingdom. 

“W-will that be safe to consume?”

“Of course. My master taught me not only to plant flowers but also to grow fruits. Balance is the important part. This way, I can sustain myself.”

“T-that’s good to hear.”

“It can be healthy too, given we don’t consume it that much.”

“And how many do you plan to add?”

“Around six.”

“I thought you would keep it under five at least.”

“When you mix it with other ingredients, it won’t be as spicy.” At Pierrot’s suffering, Helena giggled yet again. “Also give that to me. Let me eat the rest.”

On Helena’s instruction, Pierrot returned the bitten chili pepper to her, though considering how small his bite was, it was practically still the same size. She, on the other hand, bit it all in one go, leaving only the green stem pinched between her fingers. Witnessing that, he didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared. 

“Shall we get back now?” Helena suggested. “Let’s get some water before your cough worsens.”